


Of Christmas Shopping and Surprising Gifts

by EvAEleanor



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Brooms, Christmas Shopping, First Kiss, Flying, Getting Together, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Pining, Quidditch Player Draco Malfoy, Quidditch Player Harry Potter, Quidditch match
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:07:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27863590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvAEleanor/pseuds/EvAEleanor
Summary: Of course, Draco can help Harry with his Christmas shopping, no problem at all. He might be in love with the git, but feelings can be ignored.Or not?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 25
Kudos: 285
Collections: Wireless Festive Minifest 2020





	Of Christmas Shopping and Surprising Gifts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VeelaWings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeelaWings/gifts).
  * Translation into Français available: [Quand il est question de shopping de Noël et de cadeaux surprenants](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28980225) by [EvAEleanor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvAEleanor/pseuds/EvAEleanor), [SarahEtCeteraa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarahEtCeteraa/pseuds/SarahEtCeteraa)



> My betas [Janieohio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janieohio/pseuds/Janieohio) and [Drarrymadhatter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drarrymadhatter) deserve all the praise for making this fic readable. 
> 
> VeelaWings, I know I've said this so often, but words can't really express how much our friendship means to me. This year came with a lot of changes and throughout all of them, you were there for me. You gave me a shoulder to cry on and an ear when I needed it. Happy birthday you incredible person. I hope it's as amazing as you are.  
> I hope you like the little something I've written for you ~~not at all last minute~~.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Inspired by All I Want for Christmas Is You

Lying on his couch, Draco Malfoy regretted not showering straight after practice as usual. Now, dressed in a pair of grey jogger bottoms and a loose-fitting shirt, and with a cosy blanket draped over him, he felt every muscle of his body aching and was ready to never move again. _Ever._

The fire in the grate heated up the room nicely, vanishing the cold numbness that had seeped into every inch of his body during practice. The mug of warm tea Draco was clutching warmed his body from the inside. He could pick up the book from the coffee table and read a bit, or drink the Muscle Relaxant the team’s Healer had given him and make his way to his bed. Or he could simply stay here and do nothing, enjoying the fact that it was Thursday and he didn’t have to go back to the stadium till next Monday for a quick team meeting before training resumed on Tuesday.

The last match of the year would be against the Chudley Cannons, another Malfoy versus Potter. 

When he signed to be the new Seeker for Puddlemere United, he'd never expected to relate to Harry bloody Potter. Harry warned him, but Draco knew better — as always. It certainly couldn't be that bad; _he_ surely couldn't be that bad. However, after five weeks of training with his new team, Draco actually felt sorry for third-year Harry. How many hours had Wood forced them to train? 

Oliver Wood was a slave driver, there was no better way to say it. 

He forged them all, with their different strengths and weaknesses, into one team. The new season had just started, and Draco really didn’t know what his trainer still had up his sleeve. Each practice was difficult, every strategy they discussed gave Draco a headache, but he felt he was becoming a better player, and that felt so rewarding.

The best thing though was that he could complain to Potter over a pint and a lovely home-cooked meal. Harry would understand and share his own stories about Wood at Hogwarts, about how hard they had to train during his third year to win the Quidditch Cup. Draco loved those evenings, whether they were looking after Teddy at Harry's house or spending time in Draco’s tiny flat. 

His old Falcon teammates had always been concerned that their close friendship would make it impossible for them to play against each other, but they’d proven them wrong, for years. If anything, they were more competitive now than they'd ever been (if that was possible), and so far Draco had caught the Snitch five times more than Harry — an undeniable improvement over his stats at Hogwarts.

For Draco, however, this wasn't the only change, though the other one was more recent. He had always suspected that hanging out with Harry, spending so much time with him, would backfire one way or the other. 

When it finally happened, Draco was _still_ caught off guard. 

It had been a warm September’s day, and Draco had just begun training with his new team two weeks prior. He’d not seen anybody bar his fellow players and Wood — who had starred in his dreams as well, thank you so much for stress-induced visions — and he'd been looking forward to spending the entire weekend with Teddy. 

The plan was to go Grimmauld Place after training, and then Harry and he would Floo to his aunt's house to collect Teddy. Neither of them had any training or matches that weekend, and they both just wanted to spend some time with their favourite cousin and godson. 

However, when Draco landed his broom, he spotted Harry at the edge of the field talking to Wood. He made his way over to them and before he could so much as utter a greeting, Harry had wrapped him in a very tight hug, despite the fact that he was drenched from head to toe after yet another intense training session. When they broke apart, he beamed the brightest smile at Draco. 

Draco felt a bit dizzy, but that was probably just because of the hours on end he’d spent at very high speed on his broom. It certainly had nothing to do with Harry and his charming smile. 

He dashed off to the changing rooms and stripped out of his gear as fast as possible and took a quick shower, excited to see Teddy and spend time with him. Teddy, _not_ Harry. 

Or maybe that wasn't true at all…

Jealousy hit Draco like an unforeseen Bludger when he saw Wood embracing Harry in a tight squeeze, telling him he couldn't wait to see him at the pub on Wednesday. As Wood walked away, all Draco could think of was hexing his Trainer's balls off. 

_How dare Wood hug Harry like that? Only I can— Oh fuck._

Draco wanted to retreat to the changing room to collect himself, his mind reeling from the impromptu and unwanted revelation, but Harry spotted him right at that moment, smiling at him again. Harry’s typical welcoming, Cheshire Cat-like smile suddenly felt totally different. The tips of Draco's ears felt hot, and his heart raced in his chest as Harry walked towards him, reaching to carry his bag. They walked out of the stadium to the nearest Apparition point together, Draco with his broom in hand, Harry with Draco’s bag over his shoulder. 

Needless to say, the entire weekend was a disaster, as was every other time he'd seen Harry since. Harry was very… _Harry_. His warm smiles and accidental touches made Draco feel like his stomach was filled with a million Snitches. He had never hated his pale complexion more than when he was near Harry. 

He’d even contemplated using one of those Muggle sunbeds to solve his random blushing problem. Draco decided against it because not even the loss of all his dignity was worth looking like a boiled Phoenix for a week or two.

On Sunday, he would see Harry again because, in a very weak moment, Draco had agreed to go Christmas shopping with him. It wasn’t really a weak moment, just the need to point out that Hermione deserved something better than a book every year and that Ron already had all the Cannons merchandise available to man. Yes, he even purchased the team’s calendar every December which showed the entire team in… various states of undress. 

Draco couldn’t help but chuckle when he remembered the match between the Falcons and Cannons when Ron had actually got the calendar signed. Draco himself had gone out to ensure that Harry would sign his blank buttcheek. 

He snuggled deeper into his couch, closed his eyes and thought about this particular image and all the other ones that had been taken of Harry over the years.

* * *

“Draco.” 

_Why? What? It’s too early for class._

“Draco!” Whoever was calling him was more insistent this time.

“Go away,” Draco mumbled, thinking he was lying in his four-poster bed in the Slytherin dungeons.

“Draco!” 

He startled awake and almost fell from the couch before looking around for the culprit who had woken him up from his dream. The fire had gone out completely, and Draco felt the chilly air in the room as he wrapped himself tighter in the blanket. 

“Draco.”

“Potter?” Draco asked, rubbing his eyes. “What the actual fuck!” 

“Sorry for calling so late… Could you please come to the fireplace?” Harry asked. 

“I’m going nowhere except to my bedroom,” Draco replied, stifling a yawn and rearranging his blanket as he sat up to get a better look at Harry's face in his fireplace. 

“I’m coming through then.” 

Before Draco could protest, Harry was standing in his living room, dressed in his pyjamas, though Harry's shirt was a tad too small, and his hair wasn't in its usual bun, but was hanging in loose curls around his face — and was it still slightly damp? That certainly made it harder for Draco to form a sentence, as if his brain being half-asleep wasn’t enough already. This couldn't be happening… Draco still had until Sunday to prepare himself for being around him. 

“I’m really sorry; I just couldn’t wait. Now that I think of it though, I should just leave.”

Draco ran a hand through his hair, took a deep breath, and forced himself to really look at the man who’d decided to drop in at what he’d now confirmed to be 11 pm. Harry looked nervous and excited at the same time. He was bouncing on the spot, and, for just a second, Draco entertained the thought that Harry knew about his feelings for him and was here because of that.

 _You're pathetic, Draco. As if that would ever happen._

Draco let the annoyance drip into his voice. “You’re already here, Potter. Can you please cut to the chase, though? I really need to sleep." _And get you out of here before I say something stupid_ , Draco finished in his head.

“Right, sorry. I’ve spent the entire afternoon with Teddy at the Burrow, and Ginny was there, too.”

_This cannot be happening, this cannot be happening…_

“Long story short,” Harry continued while Draco's mind came up with all kinds of scenarios, “she asked me if we wanted to go flying together, and Teddy wanted to come along.” 

That effectively pulled Draco out of his thoughts. “Teddy? On a broom? My cousin wanted to go flying?”

For other people, it wouldn’t have been surprising to hear that their seven-year-old cousin wanted to hop on a broom, but Teddy had been scared of doing just that for three years, ever since Harry had had an accident during one of his matches and had to be taken to St Mungo’s. It was nothing bad, but Teddy had been in the stands that day and seen everything. Teddy hadn’t touched a broom since.

“Not by himself — we flew together — but yes, he decided to get on a broom with me.”

Sitting on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, wasn't ideal for any kind of conversation. All Draco wanted was for Potter to go home as soon as possible so he could pretend that none of this had ever happened. “That’s amazing, really. I’m glad you told me, but this—”

“I’d like to buy him a broom for Christmas,” Harry chimes in. “I think I can’t wait till Sunday, and incaseI make any stupid decisions and buy him a Firebolt, I’d like you to come with me. Could we move the shopping tour to tomorrow?” 

“Tomorrow?” Draco repeated, surprised.

“Yeah, I know you don’t have any training. Wood told me, so I thought that maybe…” 

_Wood… of course Wood told you. Why don’t you take Wood broom shopping then?_

Draco bit his tongue to stop himself from voicing these words out loud, revealing his sudden flare of jealousy. He simply had to tell Harry that…

“Please?” Harry looked at him with pleading eyes. 

_Those fucking, big, green eyes._

…that he would…

“Okay,” Draco sighed. 

…that he would apparently go to Diagon Alley with him tomorrow. 

Suddenly, Harry was standing next to him, bending over to enfold Draco in a hug so strong that Draco could feel the heat radiating from his skin. Locks of damp, black hair were all over Draco's face, and they smelled heavenly. Draco wanted to reach out and bury his hand in them. 

He pushed Harry off. “You owe me Potter, big time. 9 am sharp at Gringotts. Now go home; I need to sleep.” 

With a slightly confused look on his face, Harry made his way back to the fireplace, grabbing some Floo Powder from the bowl on the mantlepiece, and stepped inside.

When their eyes met for the final time, Harry winked. “Bye, Draco.”

Draco let himself fall back onto the couch. 

_This will be a nightmare._

* * *

When Draco stepped out of Gringotts the next morning, Harry was waiting for him, a bright smile on his face, his hair in a messy bun, and a takeaway cup from Draco's favourite café in his hand. 

"Good morning." Harry practically beamed at him.

Draco felt heat crawling up his neck and was glad he could blame the cold for his red cheeks. 

His need for caffeine was strong, since he didn’t fall asleep until around 3 am, unable to think of anything but Harry's appearance in his living room. He grabbed the cup from Harry's hands and took a sip, choosing to ignore the tingle he felt in his body when his fingers brushed the other man's.

"That's…"

"Bicerin, yes. Proper Espresso — not the Americano shit — with sweetened, lightly whipped double cream, and lots of dark chocolate."

"Apology accepted," Draco stated and began to walk down Diagon Alley. He would not let it go to his head that Harry knew what coffee he liked and that he loved extra dark chocolate when he was in a bad mood. He simply wouldn't. 

The walk to Broomstix was too short for Draco's liking, but he could've walked up and down Diagon Alley five times and he'd still feel some sort of tingle in his stomach due to Harry getting his coffee order right. And not just that, his entire body was betraying him — his heart was pounding in his chest, his cheeks felt far too hot, and he could swear there was a light spring in his step. His father would definitely have been embarrassed by him. 

As he was about to enter the shop, Harry grabbed his arm.

“Why not Quality Quidditch Supplies?” 

“We can go there as well if you insist, but Broomstix has, in my opinion, the best broom selection in Diagon Alley,” Draco answered, already opening the door. 

The shop had two floors, and every wall was packed up to the ceiling with brooms. Here and there a few brooms were floating in the air. There were also two high-class brooms on display, safely shielded from grabby hands under a glass case — the newest Firebolt and the Nimbus 3006, which had just been released in August of this year.

Hearing a faint gasp coming from behind him, Draco looked over his shoulder and saw Harry’s jaw drop open, his eyes roaming over the vast collection of brooms.

"I totally forgot how beautiful it is in here," Harry said.

He resembled a child who’d just been given the key to a toy store and didn’t know what to do first. Harry looked at Draco with a sheepish smile. Draco, in turn, gestured to him to go further inside the store. 

“Hello gentlemen, how can I help you today?” the shop owner asked. Draco had known him all his life; it was here that his father had bought all the Nimbus 2001 for the Slytherin team. 

Since Harry was too focused on walking around the room and looking at the most expensive brooms, Draco went to the till.

“Hello, Mr Thompson. It’s nice to see you again. Could we please have two pairs of gloves? And are the children’s brooms still on the second floor?”

“They certainly are,” he said, reaching for the requested pairs of gloves. “Here you go. If there’s anything else I can help you with, just call for me.”

“We certainly will. Thank you.” 

After handing the gloves to Harry and explaining to him that they’re enchanted so that he can still feel the wooden handles without leaving fingerprints, he kept to the background, enjoying watching Harry from afar. Every broom, even the cheapest ones, was examined in detail. 

Draco regarded Harry’s face closely as he examined each of the brooms, following the path of Harry’s hands tracing the lines on the wooden broom handles. 

The longer he watched, the more questions formed on Draco’s mind. Harry was completely lost in exploring the brooms, taking his time while doing so. It was as if he never really had the chance to do it in his past. 

_Had he never been able to select his own broom?_

Draco remembered the Nimbus 2000 Professor McGonagall had gifted Harry in his first year, and the Firebolt his godfather had sent to him after his broom had been destroyed by the Whomping Willow in third year. Harry had told him that he’d lost it during the night he’d been transported from Little Whinging to the Burrow, and after that, he had no time to think about brooms or Quidditch.

The Cannons, as well as other teams, had sponsors and private donors who would usually pay for the teams’ uniforms, brooms and equipment. 

Draco hadn’t expected to uncover something about Harry’s past today — they were supposed to go Christmas shopping after all — but now that he had, it explained Harry’s untameable excitement last night and attention on each and every broom right now.

Draco’s feelings were running haywire. Since they’d become friends, he had learned so much about Harry’s past, all the things he couldn’t do or wasn’t allowed to do. This was just another piece of the complex and complicated puzzle that made up Harry Potter. 

As long as he could remember, Draco had been fascinated by Harry. At first, it was out of injured pride — he was the only person that had ever declined his offer of friendship, after all. Later, however, he was simply intrigued by him. 

But now, since his feelings had crossed the borders from platonic to more, the longing to unravel more, to _see_ more beautiful and colourful facets of Harry had become stronger every time they’d met. 

If asked, Draco would deny ever having had these thoughts, of course. Only under Veritaserum would he ever spill his inner desires — like being the only person privy to Harry’s inner thoughts, or being the person who got to see him experience tiny things for the first time. 

Not that this would ever happen, or at least not how Draco imagined it. 

They were friends, and that had to be enough. 

When Harry turned to face Draco again, he was grinning, clearly happy to have been given the time to explore to his heart’s content. Draco didn’t want to break the bubble that seemed to have formed around them, but the chime of the store’s bell alerted them both, reminding them that they were in a public place and actually had things to do.

The loud gasps and open mouths of the people who’d just entered combined with Harry’s panicked expression made it abundantly clear that they needed to get moving.

“The children’s brooms are upstairs,” Draco suggested.

“Let’s go.” 

The words had barely left Harry’s mouth before he was halfway up the stairs already. 

The new arrivals were about to follow them, in blatantly obvious pursuit of an autograph from their Saviour. Draco would not let them ruin this moment for Harry. He looked over his shoulder, throwing his best deadly Malfoy glare their way and was glad to see them retreat. 

“What broom would Teddy like, Draco?” Harry asked when Draco finally stood next to him. 

“Which one would you choose for him?” Draco countered.

"This one," Harry proclaimed after a moment of consideration. 

Usually, Harry would go for whatever is most expensive, sometimes even buy the same item twice in case it broke, so Draco expected nothing less from him now. The smaller version of the Nimbus 3005 would likely be Harry’s choice; Teddy would only get the best broom available for children his age. 

However, Harry instead pointed at a Cleansweep, and Draco had to admit this broom was a good choice. This model was reliable and easy to handle. A great broom for beginners. Draco was about to congratulate him on his selection when Harry knitted his brows together.

"Or another one? I’m not sure. Maybe… I don’t know…”

He rambled on for a bit, listing the pros and cons of every broom model he knew, but when he decided to mount a children’s Comet, Draco couldn’t hold back his laughter anymore. Harry, a professional Quidditch player, sitting on a children’s broom would forever be burned into Draco’s brain. 

“Can you stop laughing and help me make a decision, Malfoy?”

In lieu of answering, Draco took the Cleansweep off the wall. 

“That was my first choice! And you let me go on for ages?”

“You never asked for my opinion.”

“I hate you, Malfoy.” 

“Back at you. Are we gonna buy this one now, or do you plan to test it at the game next Saturday?”

Harry took the broom from Draco’s hand before running down the stairs towards the cash register.

* * *

Five hours later, they were laden with bags filled with already gift-wrapped presents, and more would be sent to their respective homes over the course of the next few weeks. Harry had clearly taken advantage of Draco being his shopping companion. It was the most exhausting Christmas shopping tour Draco had ever been on, and he had to tag along for years when his mother went to buy gifts. Who knew that Harry had that many friends and that the Weasley’s had multiplied so much over the last seven years? 

“We’re almost done, only Ron and Hermione are left on my list. And you, of course. Draco, what do you want for Christmas?” 

_You at my doorstep._

“A proper meal. I’m starving, Potter. How about we—” An idea hit him out of the blue. “Just follow me and don’t say a word.” 

They passed Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes and then turned right, walking in the direction of Carkitt Market. Draco was worried he might not find it anymore, and he almost missed the black brick wall, bringing him to an abrupt halt and causing Harry to bump into him. 

“Sorry,” Draco mumbled. 

“Where are we?”

After holding a finger to his mouth, Draco waved his wand and made a door appear. He grabbed the familiar golden knob, turned it, and opened the door. 

“After you, Potter.” 

The place looked the same as it had done all those years before when he’d eaten here with his parents. Eating was the wrong word, dining was more fitting. The food was exceptional, the best money could buy in the whole wizarding Britain if you asked Draco. 

The air was heavy with spices; he could smell well-roasted pork. A server carried a plate with a freshly baked apple tart past them, and Draco knew he needed to try it.

The flaw in Draco’s brilliant plan became obvious the minute they’d been seated at their table in a very private alcove. The light was dimmed, a candle burned between them, and soft classical music played in the background. Very romantic. 

And he was here… with Harry Potter. 

_Fuck!_

“Why did you bring me here?” Harry stage-whispered, very uncomfortable. 

“I told you to be quiet, didn’t I?” 

He picked up one of the menus, scanning it to make sure they had everything he wanted. His palms were uncharacteristically sweaty, but wiping them on his trousers was out of the question. Harry, on the other side of the table, could not sit still and was constantly fidgeting with the sleeves of his jumper. 

“Potter, sit still,” Draco hissed.

“I can’t. This place is so fancy, and I’m sitting here in a black jumper and holey jeans.” 

“You’re Harry fucking Potter. They would serve you if you came here wearing a rice bag. Any meat preferences?” 

“A burger would be nice.” 

“Beef it is then,” Draco sighed, massaging his forehead with his fingers in an attempt to get rid of the headache that was forming in his head. 

_How can someone be so bloody rich and not have a single clue about proper food?_

After their orders had been placed, or Draco had placed them to be exact — he didn’t trust Harry not to embarrass them both, Harry inquired again. 

“Why are we here, Draco?”

“What is the one thing your two best friends never have?”

“Money.”

“Besides that? Any ideas?” 

Harry shrugged. 

“Time, you pillock. Hermione is always in the Ministry trying to change the world, and Ron is at home. The limited amount of time off is spent with Rose, with you, or at the Burrow.”

“So we…”

“So _you_ are gonna give them an entire day off, looking after Rose, while they enjoy some time as a couple, ending with a lovely dinner here. Ron loves good food, and after you’ve tried it, you will agree that everything here tastes spectacular. And on top of that, this place is owl and Patronus proof, so nobody can call Hermione away for anything work-related.” 

“That is perfect. Godric, Draco, I could kiss you, right now!”

The words were hanging in the air for a few seconds; Draco felt his traitorous cheeks heating up as had become their habit around Harry. He aimed to divert the attention from himself by saying, “Wait until after you’ve tried the Filet Mignon.” Adding a wink for good measure.

“Oh really? We’ll just have to see then.” 

The expression on Harry’s face was pure mischief and challenge. Draco, though, couldn’t maintain eye-contact any longer or he’d throw the table aside and snog Harry senseless into the nearest free wall. The image was already playing on his mind. Puffed red lips, a couple of strands falling out of the bun, the jumper riding up, exposing a lovely patch of skin. 

“You still haven’t answered my question, Draco.”

“Huh?” 

_Very eloquent, not at all embarrassing._

“What do you want for Christmas?”

_You, on my bed, with or without clothes… Actually, in full Quidditch gear and then I can slowly unwrap you like a proper present._

“Nothing, I’m good.” 

“Come on, you must have something on your wishlist.” 

Draco did indeed have a little list of things he wanted for Christmas, but Pansy had them all squeezed out a few days ago. And there was nothing on there he’d want from Harry. 

“No, Potter, I don’t need anything.” 

“Fine, then I’ll have to come up with something on my own. And no matter how dull or boring it is, you have to act like it’s the best present you’ve ever received, okay?”

“I’ll make no such promise.”

* * *

Draco had seen Harry in off-putting Cannons orange for quite some time. Hell, he’d even had inappropriate thoughts about things they could get up to while wearing their respective teams’ uniforms, but facing off against him again in said uniform after last Friday was strange. It was definitely Harry who’d behaved weird ever since. Or maybe Draco was making it all up because this game was so important. Who knew? 

The fact was, Draco could not wait for this match to be over. Puddlemere needed to win by ninety points to put them in the clear at the top of the table. If they’d lose by one hundred and twenty points though, the Cannons would take their current second position. 

No pressure, right?

His cousin had also decided to watch today’s game, so he had to pay extra attention to Bludgers. What could possibly go wrong when the stakes were so damn high. 

From the moment he’d left his flat, adrenaline flooded his system. Now, high above the ground, Harry on the other side of the pitch, it was more evident than before. His heart hammered in his chest, so loud it was almost impossible to hear the cheers from the crowd below. His breathing was heavy, his throat dry as parchment. 

The referee entered the field, the balls were released, and the Chasers started throwing the Quaffle around. While flying up and down and across the pitch, Draco’s eyes darted around the field in search of the tiniest bit of shiny gold. At the same time, he had to keep a close eye on Harry, which was very distracting, especially when he was flying behind him from time to time. 

_I’m so fucking screwed._

Over two hours into the game, the Cannons led one hundred to fifty, but the Snitch had yet to be spotted. The crowd was loud — chanting, cheering, booing — and Finnigan made good use of the kiss camera when Wood called for a timeout. 

Draco, currently hovering near their hoops on the lookout for the Snitch, looked over to Harry who made his way towards him. 

“Loser pays for drinks and takeaway?”

Draco’s heart skipped a beat because Harry in full gear, slightly sweaty and with lightly windswept hair, despite his bun, was a sight for sore eyes. 

“Between us or the teams?” He managed to speak evenly despite the thick lump in his throat.

“Why? Scared your team might lose even if you catch the Snitch?”

The Puddlemere fans cheered suddenly, chanting ‘Evans, Evans, Evans,’ and Finnigan confirmed that Puddlemere had just scored another goal. 

“No,” Draco said, feeling very smug, “I just prefer to add another personal win to my tally.”

“Dream on, Malfoy,” Harry said, smirking before flying off again. 

Draco shook his head, trying to banish unwanted thoughts from his brain. When he watched Harry retreat, he saw it, at the tail of Harry’s broom. The bloody Snitch. 

He immediately flew after it, hoping that his other teammates would score goals while he chased the Snitch which still clung to the tail of Harry’s broom. When he was about to grab it, it flew higher up. By now, the crowd and Finnigan had all noticed what was happening, alerting Harry. They shot upwards together, side by side, but both of them out of reach. 

Draco lost both Harry and the Snitch in the deep clouds. He descended in one last attempt to find either Harry or the Snitch, already resigning himself to their loss. The orange cape was the first thing he spotted, but Harry just hovered in the air, his head slowly moving one side to the other, evidently in search of the blasted Snitch. 

When he abruptly dove down, Draco chased after him; there was no doubt Harry had seen it. Draco made himself as flat as possible against the broom handle and slowly closed the distance between himself and Harry. With horror, Draco saw how close Harry’s finger was to the Snitch, so he went all in, tackling Harry to throw him off track. It worked, but the Snitch was now in the middle of the pitch, and Draco was dodging a Bludger, forced to divert or crash into several players. 

Harry seemed to have encountered some obstacles as well, however, but sooner than Draco would have liked he was by his side again, and the Snitch flew down to the grass. Draco briefly met Harry’s eyes before going into a dive. The wind rushed loudly past his ears, Harry was pressed to his right side, and his fingers brushed against Harry’s. It was all so fucking distracting. 

At the very last minute before they’d have hit cold grass, they pulled their brooms up in unison. The pair lunged forward, each trying to gain the upper hand and finally end this game. Draco could feel the Snitch at his fingertips, but then Harry got somehow tangled in his uniform, sending them crashing down to the ground.

Draco landed on top of Harry, effectively knocking the wind out of him. His head was spinning and getting air into his lungs seemed like an impossible task for several minutes. An intense fluttering in his hand drew his attention back to the moment. 

"Sorry," Draco mouthed, and Harry's eyes narrowed, a flash of something unknown entering them before Draco raised his arm and held up the Snitch for the crowd to see. 

“Puddlemere United wins two hundred and ten to one hundred and ten!” Seamus Finnigan announced. 

The Puddlemere fans went wild. Jubilant shouts filled the air, and Draco chuckled, still on top of Harry. He couldn't believe his luck. 

The entire atmosphere changed suddenly. People were gasping, whispering to each other, and Draco was very, very confused. 

He turned his head towards the stands to find out what was happening. 

After blinking a couple of times, it was still there. This was not some adrenaline-induced hallucination, this was real. 

Harry and he were on the screen, the kiss cam frame around their faces. 

Draco made the fatal mistake of looking at Harry who winked at him once before switching their positions. Harry placed his still gloved hand on Draco's cheek, and before Draco could do anything, he leaned in. 

It was a brief but mind-blowing kiss which left Draco longing for me. 

"Happy Christmas," Harry whispered.

Draco shook his head. How was this his life? 

“What? Too boring?”

“You’re an idiot, Potter,” Draco retorted before burying his hand in Harry’s hair and pulling him back for more.

* * *

Since Andromeda was helping Molly prepare for the big Christmas dinner later that day and had dragged his mother with her, she had asked Harry to look after his godson. Then last night in bed, Harry, in turn, had asked Draco if they could open some presents early. He really couldn’t wait any longer; he needed to know if Teddy liked his broom.

This was how he found himself donning his coat at a quarter past eight in the morning. 

_Why did I agree to this?_

He was forced to turn up his collar because his scarf was nowhere to be found; they had a thief in their midst. Draco picked up the camera Harry had given him for Christmas, suspecting an ulterior motive to Harry’s actions. He was still trying to figure out how to make it work when Teddy and Harry stormed past him, Harry unmistakably wearing his grey scarf. 

“Come on, Draco,” Teddy shouted, already on his way outside, pulling Harry after him. Both of them had their brooms in hand. 

The sun was rising slowly on the horizon, and the grass in Harry’s backyard was frost-covered and frozen, crunching slightly as Draco stepped onto it. 

_I hope this is gonna work, or my aunt will murder me in front of everybody_ , Draco thought when he started to film. 

If Draco wasn’t already very much in love with Harry, he’d fall for him now. Harry was explaining to Teddy how to fly properly; Stopping, speeding up, turning around or hovering in the air, basically more than he needed to know before mounting a proper broom for the first time.

Then they took off, Harry always close to Teddy in case of a mishap while leaving enough space between them so Teddy could explore the mechanism of flying on his own. His cousin was tentative at first, making sure he knew the basics before he tried to go faster or to change directions while flying swiftly. He even bent over to touch the grass as he flew close to the ground. 

After fifteen minutes it was all over, though Draco was sure they would go flying in the afternoon again. Maybe there would even be a Christmas Quidditch game with three players and his own trainer present. 

Telling Harry that he’d been jealous of Wood had probably been one of the most embarrassing things in his life, and he was glad he’d been tipsy when that conversation had taken place during Puddlemere’s Christmas party. Draco had seen Wood snogging a man and told Harry so when he’d arrived back at their table. His cursed mouth blabbered on and on and when Draco’s brain had caught up with everything he’d just said, Harry had been roaring with laughter. As it turned out, Wood had finally started dating Percy Weasley in October after being in love with his best friend for almost a decade. 

And now Draco had to spend Christmas with him, Harry’s ex-girlfriend, as well as Harry’s best friends and all the other Weasleys at the Burrow. All this when what he truly wanted was to just stay at Grimmauld Place, showing his boyfriend exactly how much he loved him — preferably in as many rooms and positions as possible. 

“How do you like your present?” Harry asked when they’d come inside. 

“Could be better,” Draco declared. “His manners need improvement.” 

Then he grabbed the ends of the stolen scarf and pulled Harry in for a kiss. 

Draco had gotten everything he wanted and so much more.


End file.
